Chapter 32
Not that I speak in respect of want: for I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.
—Philippians 4:11
Christmas was only a week away, and I didn’t even have my Christmas tree up and decorated. Everything had gone smoothly with the transferring of the deeds on the house to Zynique. And since it was fully furnished, she’d already moved in. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her being in a house by herself. But she was grown now, technically speaking. And as she and I had discussed even before she ended up blessed with that house, it was time for her to be getting out on her own.
In the past, I was always excited about Christmastime. Especially when the girls were young and looking forward to what would be under the tree. We had our own ritual coming up to the big day. We would turn on Christmas music, put up the tree—each year having purchased one new ornament to put on the tree. Each child had her own special ornament that marked the day she was born. We would drink hot chocolate and have the best time. Memories . . . precious memories.
Of course, Zeke had never participated in the decorating of the tree. The most I could ever get him to do was to bring the boxes of decorations upstairs from the storage room. So it was no surprise that he didn’t feel funny about this year.
Zanetta wasn’t going to be there this year. She had decided to make the Air Force her career and was stationed too far away to come home for a few days and get back in time even if she had wanted to. Zion called, right as Zynique was moving her things into her new home, to inform me of her good news.
“You say what?” I said, stunned.
“Married, Mom,” Zion said. “I got married!”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying that you’re getting married, so I need to start planning a wedding? Is that what you’re saying?”
She laughed. “No. I’m saying I’m already married, so you won’t have to worry about either the planning or the expense, not when it comes to me, anyway.”
“Who was worried about an expense? I was looking forward to it.” I had to sit down. I was utterly disappointed. “So you’re telling me that you got married?”
“Yes, Mother. And he’s a wonderful man!” I could hear the love oozing from her voice.
“So . . . is he Haitian?”
“He’s not, but his father is. He’s in our group. And guess what else, Mom?”
I was afraid to even try to guess. “What?” I said putting a swift end to the guessing game before it got started.
“I’m a mother!”
“You’re a what? A mother?! Oh, baby. You were pregnant.” I couldn’t help but be disappointed and it showed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Did you have the baby over there? Is that why you got married? You know you didn’t have to get married just because you were pregnant—”
“Mom! Mom! Slow down. I didn’t get married because I was pregnant.” She laughed. “You get so wound up and nobody can shut you down. Malik has a son.”
“So is Malik the name of my new son-in-law? A son-in-law you didn’t think you should bring home for us to at least meet before you tied your souls forever together?”
“You’re too much,” Zion said with a chuckle. “Why don’t you tell me what you really think?”
“I thought that’s what I was doing.”
“Mother, I’m only joking,” Zion said.
I released a sigh of relief. “I have to give it to you. For a minute there you had me going. I thought you’d married some river-rat your daddy and I had never met and that you were now a mother. Whew! Thank God you were only joking.”
“No. The part about me being married and a mother is all true. I was joking about you telling me what you really think. I can tell you’re not that excited about this. Of course, I also expected that from you. Listen, I can’t talk long. I just wanted to let you know that I’m married to a wonderful man named Malik Merisier, I’m Zion Merisier now, and I’m the mother of an amazing three-year-old son named Jonah.”
“All right. Then, I suppose congratulations are in order,” I said, trying my best to sound happy for her. There was no purpose in ruining this conversation trying to get her to see what a huge mistake I believed she may have made. Besides, the spirit of Christmas was upon us, a time of glad tidings and good cheer. “Congratulations!”
“Thank you,” Zion said. “Is Dad around?”
“No, honey. He’s not here.”
“Okay. Well, tell him that I called and that I’m sorry I missed him.”
“Will do,” I said. “So when do we get to meet our new son-in-law and his three-year-old?”
“Our three-year-old,” Zion said, correcting me. “There is no ‘my and his’ with us; only ‘ours.’ ”
“Okay . . . your three-year-old. When are you coming home?”
“We’ll likely be back in the states sometime in March.”
“Are you coming home to stay?” I crossed my fingers and said a quick prayer.
“Maybe,” Zion said.
That was good news. Maybe I could grow to like this Malik after all. If he was bringing my child back this way, he couldn’t be all bad, right? Prior to this call, I had almost become convinced Zion was never coming back. Now, we were at a “maybe.”
“Mom, I’m going to get off the phone now. These calling cards don’t give as many minutes when you use them for international calls.”
“Well, thanks for calling. It was good hearing your voice.”
“Oh!” Zion said. “Have you put up the Christmas tree yet? What am I saying? Of course, you have,” Zion said. I could hear the smile in her voice. “You always put the tree up right after Thanksgiving.”
“Well, this Thanksgiving was a bit hectic. Madame Perry died.”
“Madame Perry died? When? What happened?”
“The Monday before Thanksgiving. You know she was up in age. Her heart just gave out. The funeral was the Saturday after Thanksgiving. I was really busy that week with flower orders for the funeral and everything. It was something.”
“How is Zynique taking it? She loved her some Madame Perry, even more than the rest of us. The last time Zynique and I talked, she was working for her. Is Zynique doing all right?”
“It was hard, but she made it through. She even spoke at the funeral.”
“Zynique spoke? You mean little don’t-ever-want-to-speak-in-public Zynique spoke at her funeral? We’re talking about my baby sister Zynique?”
“Yes, your little sister Zynique. It was very touching, too.”
“So is she there now or out with that guy she’s been dating?”
“Actually, I don’t know where she is,” I said. “She has her own place now.”
“Zynique moved into an apartment? Is she sharing it with Iesha or Darlene?”
“It’s not an apartment; Zynique has a house. And she’s not sharing it with either Iesha or Darlene. It’s all hers; she owns it.”
“A house? Zynique is living in a house?”
“Yes.”
“Her own house?”
“Yes.”
“And she’s not renting it?” Zion said.
“No. She owns it outright. No mortgage at all. Free and clear. Owns it.”
“Listen, Mom,” Zion said hurriedly. “The voice just said I only have a minute left. Tell Zynique to write me and tell me what’s going on with her. I’ll see you all soon, I hope! I love you. Tell Dad I love him, too.”
“Love you, too, baby,” I said.
“Oh, and Mom? Merry Christ—”
We were disconnected.
And that’s about how I felt with all of my children right now—disconnected. Everyone was going about . . . living their own lives the way they chose. Zanetta would not likely be settling down anytime soon. I was a little worried about her, especially since we were at war now. I thought Zanetta might be in a prime position to be flying in a combat area. She and others assured me that there’s a 1994 combat exclusion policy banning women from ground combat units. Zanetta mentioned it when she was fussing about the unfairness of it. Other people brought it up to make me feel better about her doing this at all.
Zanetta stated women have, for years, served in ground combat situations. “They just don’t get credit for it,” Zanetta said, which she contended hinders women from getting promotions. . . senior flag ranks, the three and four stars primarily.
Zeke was the first person to mention anything about Bin Laden even before the news said the attack was most likely orchestrated by him. I’d never heard of a Bin Laden before. But Zeke watched that type of stuff on television, so he was familiar with Bin Laden and what he’d done in the past. When it was official that Bin Laden was the one that had orchestrated the 9/11 attacks, Zeke couldn’t stop talking about it, telling every bit of information he thought that he knew about him. I just wanted Zanetta to get out of the military and do something else.
But Zanetta has always been headstrong. She’s going to do what she wants, no matter how nervous it makes me.
“Mother,” Zanetta said. “God has not given us the spirit of fear. Isn’t that one of the scriptures you like to quote to reassure us that we should never be afraid?”
“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying that I’m in fear. I would just prefer you not put yourself in harm’s way of any kind, if you can at all avoid it. You’re a woman, who, of all things, managed to make it to a position where you’re allowed to fly planes, likely now over hostile territory. What if you get shot down and taken prisoner? Do you have any idea how—?”
“Don’t, Mom. Don’t speak that negative on me. ‘For God hath not given us the spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.’ That’s what Second Timothy, one-seven says.”
“I know, I know. And you’re right.” I let out a sigh. “ ‘Life and death is in the power of the tongue.’ So I’ll not speak or think anything negative on this again. I believe God has charged angels to watch over you. So I’m going to be content in knowing that a thousand may fall at your side and ten thousand at your right hand—”
“ ‘But it shall not come nigh me,’ ” Zanetta said, finishing Psalm 91:7 she and I began quoting religiously the first day I learned she’d signed up for the Air Force.
“Okay. I’m good,” I said, reassuring myself more than her. “I’m content.”
And that’s what I was doing right now. Learning to be content in whatever state I found myself. Our girls had all flown the nest. And I was by myself now, with the exception of the few times Zeke and I passed each other coming and going.
This Christmas would be the first time that I would not have a Christmas tree up in our house. Not because I was too busy; but because no one, except me, was there to care. I was good though. The shop was busy and it had a festive look. All in all, I was content. I was content. Or so I thought.